“Snails tend not to move in a straight line, they take their time, and leave their mark along the way.”
Dear Burch,
It’s been months since you last checked in and I imagine you are purposefully off grid in an effort to focus on what is most important in life. Tell me. How are the waves? Is the water warm? Are the beers cold?
Man, I miss the sand and salt that becomes a permanent part of your body after a day in the tropical sun. They’re like trusty friends who are always there to remind you of the good times from yesterday, and to enjoy the more important things in life. It’s been too long since I last adventured to the ocean, or anywhere for that matter, until recently.
You told me once, “Break your routine. Jump in a cold lake. Feel the air as it passes by. Take action or live with regret, and experience the good in any moment.”
Well, Burch, with this in mind, I thought you would be proud to learn that I spent last night on a bed of soft pine needles staring up at the stars which kept watch over me as I slept on the forest floor. It was a balmy night with a light breeze that held off any signs of biting and buzzing insects, and this morning the sun just barely beat me to a hot cup of coffee as it coaxed the morning mist from the surface of the mountain lake in front of my campsite. My eyes are dry and my clothes are dusty with the smell of bonfire that could have set the stage for a perfect evening of guitar singing, and laughing with good friends. You would have loved it.
Man, you should hear the birds out here! A cacophony of excitement all around, it truly is! Ha! I love that word, “cacophony’. It fills me with joy that their ” incongruous or chaotic mixture” of sound can be so uplifting and encouraging. Their eager chatter and songs echo off of the surrounding pines that reach towards the sky and shelter this meadow from the rest of society’s polluting noise and unnecessary drama. It reminds me of the stories you’ve told about celebrating the beginning of a new day in faraway lands where you don’t understand the language, but feel the energy of possibility and intention in the inhabitants at the local market. It’s electric, and I imagine these birds are commenting on the poetic blue sky, eager to take flight and fulfill the day ahead with adventure and exploration.
Well, so, the reason I’m writing is to tell you of an odd yet inspiring encounter I had yesterday upon arriving at this little oasis in the mountains that I thought you may find interesting. I met a snail. Yes. That’s right. A snail, you know. Like a slug but with a tiny home and unassuming sophistication. Rustic elegance and a delicate unspoken beauty, perhaps. This snail and I, you see, had crossed paths almost unnoticed as I walked along exploring my temporary home in the woods and counting the different colored wildflowers that blanketed the ground. Reds and purples and blues and yellows mixed to create the abstract patchwork of the meadow between the forest edge and the mirrored stillness of the water where she sat on a rock admiring the same as I.
I found her peculiar, and hoping she would not mind some company, I pulled up a patch of grass and weeds next to her hoping that she would not be scared away by my sudden intrusion. It was clear that she too was soaking up every ounce of warmth, as snails like to do, compliments of the much appreciated the spring day, and as I tucked in next to her I could see that her eyes moved this way and that curiously attempting to determine if I was to be of any concern to the occasion.
It crossed my mind for a moment that perhaps I should find another place to watch the eagles soaring above, but I must admit it was nice to suddenly have a companion to share this peaceful moment with, and I was confident she would not go rushing off like the fox or raccoon that came traveling by earlier. I hoped she felt the same.
So, now, what do you suppose you say to a snail? To be honest I wasn’t quite sure. In fact I was a little embarrassed that I had sat down without first considering my opening line, and something our friend the Source would have scolded me for after all of his years of first-line coaching. But that’s another story. I wonder how the Source is doing these days.
Anyways. As we sat in silence for what seemed like an eternity, both staring out over the lake, I was convinced that I heard her humming a gentle and happy little tune and it brought a smile to my face. I wondered what the melody was celebrating, and so I decided to make the leap and break the ice.
“That’s a pretty little tune you’re singing, snail,” I commented with a smile. “What inspires you to hum this morning?”
Burch, imagine my surprise when she responded! “Well, hello there,” she said. “I was wondering when you may say something, and aren’t you so kind to ask, too. I was initially headed toward the lake, and then changed my mind to head towards the forest, and then turned around and changed my mind again to head towards the stream, and that’s when I decided to just stop on this rock and admire the perfect little day we were having. Don’t you think it’s just the perfect little day?”
I blinked a couple of times in agreement, and she continued on. “That’s when I saw you, and you seemed harmless enough, and I was hoping that you would come over and say hello.” My friend, If I couldn’t think of anything to say earlier, I was now even more tongue tied than before, as you could likely imagine.
“I’ve been watching you move about the meadow going this way and that way all morning, talking to every butterfly and honeybee that passed you by,” she said. “At first you seemed confused or lost, but as I studied your movements, spinning in circles, examining the flowers, and smiling at the mountains, I realized that perhaps you were simply questing, and it made me want to hum along in celebration of your journey on such a nice day.”
Well, at that moment, a smile came over me and all nervousness left as we continued to discuss the patterns of my wanderings. I explained that I was happy to feel free in this beautiful location, taking it slow and without a worry. I told her about you and your adventures, and shared the profound insights you had given me about what contributes to a life well lived. I explained that, sadly, I had been existing in a world of trying to please others with their inevitable dissatisfaction, and that I was also trying to live with more intention, but had been struggling with how. I also shared that it was clear to me that my wanting was naturally leading to suffering just as Buddha and the stoics had warned, and I explained that I often got lost, changed direction frequently, and had become buried under ideas, and dreams, and options, and clutter. She laughed at my plight, but said she understood.
We spoke for hours and I found that the snail was a fantastic listener, which I also told her as much. That’s when she smiled, leaned in a little closer and whispered that she knew where my troubles must be coming from, as she had also experienced this type of struggle before, as snails can often know, but everything would work itself out in the end. And then, Burch, she said it was as clear as day to her, that, in fact, yes, it must be true, that I too, must be a snail, just like her. It was the only reasonable explanation for my unrest.
Ha! I laughed. What an absurd thought, to be a snail! And why did she feel this had to be the case, Burch? “Because,” she said. “Snails tend not to travel in a straight line, they take their time, and leave their mark along the way!” she exclaimed. Exactly what I had been doing earlier in the meadow as well as in the stories of life I had shared with her.
Crazy right? Well, after giving this some deep thought, perhaps it is true! Maybe I am a snail! And, that doesn’t sound too bad does it, Burch? Being a snail?
The afternoon carried on as we philosophized about life and all the adventures there were to discover out there. But you know this all too well don’t you, Burch! The hardest part of adventure and fulfilling dreams is choosing a direction without becoming paralyzed with options and the struggle between comfort and action. What a privilege to have such a problem, isn’t it! But just like the snail suggested, it’s not the direction, but rather, the movement that matters most, and who cares if you change direction. No one cares or is even paying attention. It’s not something you do for others. It’s your journey and no one else’s. I imagined you of all people would know this to be true.
The day wore on, and as conversation faded back into thoughtful silence, we quietly admired our place in the meadow, and then parted ways along with the falling sun. As she moved away, in no particular direction at all, as we know snails do, she said she hoped to see me again, and that perhaps one day we could wander together, if only we could narrow down our options, but travel in a straight line, we would certainly not!
Well, Burch. I know my story must sound strange, me talking to a snail and all. But it happened, and as I laid under a billion stars last night thinking of my chance encounter earlier that day, I couldn’t get her out of my mind. I swear I can still hear her humming her happy little tune as she moves along the forest floor, and I hope that one day I get a chance to wander with her, in no particular direction at all.
Your friend,
B-Maks
